It was a Whiskey Night
by Miss Mila
Summary: Sometimes she laid in front of her TV with a bottle of Whiskey or Cognac depending on the night from her liquor cabinet and Rocky Road from her freezer and did just the opposite of what she usually did. Rating for obviously alcohol. Please R/R.


**Author's Note: Hey everyone! I'm back with another Castle fic. This one has a slightly more angst-y tone to it, but it ends up being hurt/comfort all the same. Now, major props go to my good friend **_**AphroditeAwry, **_**she helped me beta this and make some decisions about the piece. Thanks so much! Enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Castle characters, places, themes, etc. No copyright infringement intended. **

* * *

She usually wasn't one to wallow in self-pity. Nor one to feed on her regrets. She wasn't one to hold grudges, or one to hold on to things worth letting go. She rarely questioned her motives, and she wasn't one to analyze the past. Usually.

Most of the time she just squared her shoulders and raised her chin, moving on with her life. She just moved forward; she had better things to do. Usually she learned from her mistakes and focused on that knowledge gained from them rather than focus on the mistakes themselves. Most of the time.

Ordinarily she _remembered _those people in her life that'd lost their own. Those victims at her job who lost their lives, or their families who'd lost someone. Ordinarily she grew from knowing them, she didn't grieve for them. Ordinarily.

But sometimes, sometimes it wasn't like that.

Sometimes she laid in front of her TV with a bottle of Whiskey (or Cognac depending on the night) from her liquor cabinet and Rocky Road from her freezer and did just the opposite of what she usually did.

She thought about how, no matter what she did, she never moved anywhere in life. How all she dated were losers and how maybe she wasn't that great a cop if she couldn't solve her own mother's case.

And then there were the times she thought of the victims and the victims' families. Who she encountered in her cop life. How many people's lives were forever altered because of the actions of psychopaths and sociopaths around them?

Tonight was one of those nights. And it was a Whiskey night. And what made it even worse was the fact that she had no ice cream.

She didn't bother pouring herself a glass - she drank right out of the bottle. Which, while probably not wise, was the practical thing to do.

Now, she didn't do this often. But every now and then the cases would get to her. The horrors of the city, though masked by the New York night life, sometimes got to her. The fact that it was her job to find those weirdos and psychopaths sometimes got to her.

Sometimes Whiskey wasn't enough.

The shrill ring of her phone broke her out of her reverie.

"Hello?" The soft slur of her words was evident even to her own ears.

_"Kate?"_

"Castle. Hi." Her voice was thick with tears and the affects of the Whiskey were catching up with her.

_"Kate, is everything okay - are _you_ okay?"_

She didn't say anything for a minute, contemplating her answer. "No. I'm not." She finally whispered.

Castle didn't hesitate when he said, _"I'm coming over."_

She didn't object to this, instead asking, "Why did you call in the first place?"

_"I was going to ask you about case protocol, nothing important."_

"Oh."

_"I'm going to hang up now, but I'll be there in 15, okay?"_

"Okay."

The line clicked as he hung up.

There was a knock on the door exactly 15 minutes later, not as if she was counting. Castle had arrived.

"Beckett, it's me."

No answer.

"Kate." The doorknob turned. It was unlocked. "For goodness sakes, Kate, you're a cop. _In New York._ Why is your door unlocked?" He called into the room.

No answer.

He walked further into the apartment and saw Kate, curled in a ball on a loveseat across from the TV, Whiskey bottle by her side.

"Oh, Kate." He came over to her and picked up the bottle. It was a third full. She whimpered as he brushed the hair out of her face. "Why are you doing this, Kate?" He asked, slowly helping her sit up. He sat down next to her and took her hand in his. She turned away from him. "Kate?"

She shook her job. "You know, sometimes I hate what we do." She whispered. "Really hate it."

Castle waited for her to continue.

"There was this one case," she slurred slightly, "where the victim was an 8 year old girl. She'd seen her uncle get shot in front of her, and the man in the mask gave her a cut on the cheek. I never caught the killer. My mother is dead. She was _murdered. _I never caught the killer then, either."

"Can't catch them all, Kate."

"Tell _that _to the 8 year old girl."

"Everyone has that one that got away."

"Not me. Or, at least, I'm not supposed to."

"You're only human, Kate."

No response.

"Is that the reason for the drinking?" He asked, pointing to the Whiskey bottle on the table.

Kate shook her head. "Part of the reason. _Damn. _I knew I should've locked up my liquor."

Castle stood and brought her back a glass of water. "Drink."

She did. "Then I think about everything that goes _wrong _and how nothing can go _right._" She held the glass and pointed a finger at him. "And I don't _do _that, Castle. I don't _doubt _myself. But at times like these, I do." She was swaying slightly. "Nothing goes right." She repeated, and a tear streaked down her face.

Castle's heart was breaking as he watched Kate. This was a side of her he'd never seen. The second guessing, regretful, doubtful side. He gently took the glass out of her hands and gently put his arms around her. She fell and was pulled into his chest. He felt her tears through his shirt.

"I'm sorry." She whispered as she leaned her head on his chest. "I'm sorry."

"Shhhh…you have nothing to be sorry for, Kate."

She curled up into a small ball in his arms. "I just want to forget about them all sometimes. All those victims…all those killers. Everyone."

"I know. I know."

"Rick, I'm _tired._"

And the way she said that, just the _way, _was heartbreaking itself.

"Go to sleep, Sweetie. I'll be right here."

"Promise?"

"Promise."

* * *

It was early the next morning when she awoke. Her hair was a mess, and her makeup was streaked, but she still looked beautiful. His arms were around her, and she reveled in his touch before wondering why he was there in the first place. And then it all came back to her. The drinking. And the crying. And Castle coming over. She slowly looked up and saw his gaze on her; she doubted he got any sleep.

"Hey." He said quietly, worry etched on his face.

"Hey." She replied. Her eyes dropped to the hand that was on her arm, resting there casually. "I…I should go take a shower."

He simply nodded. "I'll be here when you get back."

She nodded too, and didn't meet his eyes.

It was a long shower, just as they both knew it would be. One where she let the hot water run over her tense, aching muscles, one where she stood under the showerhead just wasting time, not wanting to go back and face her knight armed with a pen instead of sword. But she had to get out eventually. Water wasn't cheap either.

She slowly got dressed, putting on a white t-shirt and a pair of sweat pants. Work didn't start for a few hours. And then, moving slowly, she made it out to the living room, looking at everything but him.

"Hey."

"Hey." She said for the second time that morning, glancing at his face briefly.

The silence was deafening, and she was glad when he broke it.

"I was gonna get myself something to eat, but then I remembered that you have a gun, and that Esposito mentioned you were horrible with a hangover." He said lightly. He succeeded in getting a little smile out of her. "Come on. Let me make you breakfast."

Her sarcastic reflexes were quick. "Yeah Castle, if I wanted to _die _today, maybe I would."

"What? You don't think I can cook?" He asked, the cute puppy-dog expression coming to light. She knew he probably didn't even realize he did that.

"Fine." She said, rolling her eyes. "I'll take that risk."

He grinned. "Excellent." The somber mood of the night before was forgotten.

After an excellent breakfast of a complicated omelet-like contraptions, Castle helped load the dishwasher and then grabbed his coat. "I'm heading back to my place now, Kate. See you at work?"

She sighed a heavy sigh and nodded. "Yeah. And Castle? Thanks."

"Anytime, Kate. Promise."

They were both in the office at 7:00 on the nose. Castle had taken a shower and changed, and maybe even gotten an hour of sleep or so. She'd spent it worrying on what to do when she actually saw him again, but she didn't have to worry. A part of her knew he'd keep this between them.

She sensed that Lanie sensed something. Maybe even Ryan and Esposito. But no one would say anything. No one would _know_ beyond their suspicions.

No one except them. And true. Whenever another hard case would come up, a small touch would be exchanged; an encouraging smile would be given. And they'd remember. And whenever she had another Whiskey night, he'd be there. He promised. And she knew that none of this would go into the Nikki Heat novels.

But that part wasn't quite right.

"_And as Nikki Heat threw her keys on the dresser, only two things were on her mind: The bottle of Whiskey in her liquor cabinet, and the Rocky Road in her freezer." _

Fine. He could have it his way.

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**Author's Note: Thanks for reading, mind leaving me a review and telling me what you think? **


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